


chuck-a-hunk-o’-wood-and-slice-it-in-half-mid-air-with-your-katana

by notzenyatta



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9903479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notzenyatta/pseuds/notzenyatta
Summary: alternately titled: Genji is seriously emotionally stunted and doesn't know how to process when people care about him and treat him gently.





	

**Author's Note:**

> posting this in the meantime, while I wait for Saturday so I can update that other fic with a stupidly long title :) just a brief warning for mild violence and descriptions of injury, its not that bad.

 

The first time Genji had hurt himself around Zenyatta was when he broke his leg falling off of a literal cliff.

 

(so much for no fall damage)

 

In his defense, he had gotten a little too caught up in his game of “chuck-a-hunk-o’-wood-and-slice-it-in-half-mid-air-with-your-katana”, and didn’t notice the loose gravel that he plunged his heavy foot into. The next thing he knew he was on the ground, no longer champion of his stupid made-up game, and he couldn’t move his left leg at all without a searing pain slicing the limb in half. He had made it back up to the camp he and Zenyatta had set up, by using a stick that sort of looked like a crutch, as a crutch. How innovative. 

 

Zenyatta was startled out of a deep meditation when he noticed him and immediately rushed over to assist the injured cyborg. 

 

“What on earth did you do?” 

 

Zenyatta had asked him, and before Genji could protest there were shockingly capable arms tucking him in close and carrying him, bridal style, into the formerly-uninhabited cabin they had stumbled across two days earlier. Genji could only grasp onto the omnic’s broad shoulders and pray that he wouldn’t be jostled or dropped. He wasn’t, as Zenyatta handled him with the gentlest care imaginable. 

 

And because of this, Genji started to feel a lot of confusing ways all at once. 

 

Genji had never been particularly physically affectionate with anyone ever, unless it came to sexual acts. But this was not a sexual act, not even close to one, not with his teacher carefully laying him across a borrowed, moth-eaten couch and scolding him gently as he sent down an orb of harmony to knit his leg back together, grasping his hand worriedly when Genji hissed in pain. 

 

But instead of the revulsion that he expected at Zenyatta’s touch, he felt confusingly warm. Kind of…content. Almost safe, he realized, when the omnic helped him to his feet, steadying him with two careful hands and a few more fond scoldings. 

 

“You need to be more careful, Genji. What if you had not made it up to the camp?” 

 

“Yeah... I mean, Yes, Master. I will try to be more careful.”

 

He didn’t try to be more careful. If anything, he became more reckless. 

 

The next time was during an actual fight, not one where his opponent was a cliff and a chunk of wood. In Genji’s defense, he was tired. He got sloppy and didn’t notice that the anti-omnic gang member he was tackling was sporting a back-up Leatherman until it collided with his stomach, sliding through a chink in his armor. 

 

He practically howled in pain (Which, again, in Genji’s defense, is a totally reasonable response to being shanked) and before he could turn his attention back to the man he had thrown himself away from, his opponent was (either dead or) unconscious, having taken a heavy orb of discord to the skull. Protective metal hands were on him in an instant, guiding him to a safe corner of the alley their brawl had taken place in. 

 

“Genji, look at me, alright? I have you. You’ll be fine, You’ll be fine…”

 

There was never any doubt. 

 

After a while, Genji began to stop caring about wether or not he got injured. He used to fret and whine about it, even the smallest scrapes, since pain was a great inconvenience to a warrior. He also used to try to avoid any medical attention at any cost, once holing himself up in his room for two days so he wouldn’t walk past Angela with a recently bruised face. But now, disturbingly enough, he thinks, he has come to almost look forward to injury. 

 

Luckily, Zenyatta noticed what was going on and managed to put a stop to Genji’s reckless train of unchecked emotions before he did worse than get shot in the chest.

 

By the way, Genji got shot in the chest.

 

He was lucky, really, as lucky as you can get considering the mechanics of a bullet-inflicted chest wound. The path of the bullet was slowed by his protective armor and only managed to lodge in the fiberglass portion of his left lung (installed to fix the organ which had been severely compromised during his… incident).  

 

Again, not a particularly nice wound, but luck had been on his side when yet another militant anti-omnic cultist had fired the weapon directly at him from about an inch away. Genji had grabbed his opponent right before he would have delivered a potentially fatal blow to the back of Zenyatta’s head, and the man shot Genji when he was in the process of pinning him against the feeble, wooden wall of the warehouse they had been battling in. 

 

He had been sloppy, (perhaps intentionally) but he hadn’t really bargained on getting shot.

 

Genji hadn’t cried out this time, but simply gasped, rough in the back of his throat as he felt his armor splinter. Had he been shot? Probably. He wasn’t feeling much of anything, but that was likely due to adrenaline. His attacker shoved him to the ground, eyes darting around feverishly for en escape. That was his first mistake, as Genji soon heard the slight, telltale humming sound of Zenyatta summoning an orb of discord, which he was able to safely cast now that Genji was no longer blocking their attacker.

 

“You will not be harming my student.”

 

And the man fell to the ground, making a sickening thudding noise, probably with a shattered ribcage or cracked skull (Omnic orbs are not light), but before Genji could really contemplate his fate Zenyatta was at his side, blocking any view of the human. 

 

“Genji, can you hear me?”

 

“Y-yes…”

 

He was starting to notice the pain in his chest flare, especially when he tensed the muscles in his side in an effort to sit up. he started coughing too, and began to taste metal in his mouth. The omnic next to him slid his arms under Genji’s back and carefully maneuvered him into his lap. Zenyatta was saying something, sounding concerned. Maybe desperate, but Genji relaxed despite the increasing pain, leaning his head against Zenyatta’s shoulder. He felt safe here. He could die like this…

 

“Genji! I need you to stay with me. Just hold on, please…”

 

He opened his eyes, feeling his head spin. Not wanting to upset his teacher, he opened his mouth to speak but began to cough violently again, feeling an unexpected jab of pain in his chest, like he was being stabbed over and over again with each heave of his back. Zenyatta unhinged his faceplate and tried to wipe away the small stream of blood that was running down his chin. 

 

“It will be alright, just hang on…”

 

And Genji watched in half-awe, half-pain-induced-stupor as his friend passed into the Iris, summoning additional, translucent arms, orbs flying about his head in something like a halo, as the wound in Genji’s chest began to heal, the remains of the bullet being pushed out by the regrowth of metal and flesh. He sobbed at the sensation (as it was not entirely pleasant) and felt a gentle hand caress his hair. One of Zenyatta’s corporeal arms, doing it’s best to comfort him. 

 

Eventually the pain slowed until it was little more than the ebb and flow of a tide, aching in time with Genji's pulse. Zenyatta’s additional arms evaporated into mist, their golden glow fading into the vague, distant lights of the city around them, glinting through the wooden cracks in the walls of their temporary sanctuary. Genji’s sense of reality began to come back to him, and he realized that his reckless search for attention had almost cost him his life.

 

“You’re lucky. Your armor stopped any very serious immediate damage from occurring.” 

 

Oh. well, maybe not so much.

 

“Genji… May we talk?”

 

Genji’s pulse began to quicken and he averted his face from Zenyatta’s permanently calm expression. 

 

“H-here? Is it not an unsafe place to rest…?”

 

As if to punctuate his point, voices could be heard. Angry ones, perhaps the other members of the gang they had taken down. Zenyatta looked up at the noise, attentive. 

 

“Yes, perhaps you are right. Can you stand?”

 

Genji nodded (although he wasn’t sure if he could or not), and snapped on his faceplate. Luckily he was able to at least walk, and they two of them retreated back to the, frankly quite sketchy, hotel room they had rented the night before. As they slid through the heavy door to their room, Genji felt his stomach tying and untying in knots, especially when Zenyatta motioned for him to sit beside him on one of the two twin beds. Genji obliged, feeling faintly ill with guilt, and sat down. There was only a moment of silence.

 

“Genji, have you been behaving this recklessly on purpose?”

 

Thickly, Genji swallowed and nodded.

 

“I… Genji... I would hope that… that if there is something you need from me you would not put yourself in harm’s way to attain it.”

 

Genji willed his vents not to pop, as his face was heated with shame. His shoulders stiffened with surprise as he felt a warm hand come to rest on his own, and he almost pulled away. Zenyatta’s tone was gentle, in the same way it was when he was healing him.

 

“I do really care about you, now more as a friend than as a student… I am not upset with you, and I am more than willing to do whatever you need me to. You only need ask.”

 

Genji took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against the turmoil of emotions welling up inside of him. 

 

“I… Haven’t… I’ve never really felt like someone cared about me…”

 

The hand on his own holds more weight.

 

“I suppose I… I must have missed it… somehow.”

 

“Then I will not waste time in letting you know that I do care for you.”

 

Its almost a whisper, but it echoes loudly in Genji’s ears like a birdsong. He turns toward’s the Omnic who opens his arms, welcoming. 

 

Genji falls into them, feeling at home for the first time in years.

 

-

EPILOGUE

-

 

Months later, Genji finds himself all but lying across his Zenyatta’s lap, peacefully rolling an orb in his hands. It gives off a slight energizing buzz and warmth. A question suddenly strikes him when he remembers a time when he was afraid to touch his friend.

 

“Zenya…”

 

“Hmm?”

 

He awkwardly averts his eyes, trying to summon words.

 

“Do you remember the night that… with the shooter in the warehouse in London?”

 

Zenyatta looks down at him and nods, but tilts his head in question.

 

“That night, if you knew that my wound wouldn’t kill me, why did you use the iris?”

 

Zenyatta pauses, then laughs.

 

“I suppose I was showing off.”

 

Genji snorts, and pulls Zenyatta down into a closer hug. 

 

The omnic returns it with at least six arms.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this when I first joined the overwatch/genyatta community and i still like it so i'll put it here yo. reminder that u can find me @ notzenyatta on tumblr, and, uh, please don't try playing chuck-a-hunk-o’-wood-and-slice-it-in-half-mid-air-with-your-katana at home; its;; unsafe;;;;;


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